


The End

by kazosa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cussing, Despair, F/M, Loneliness, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:09:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazosa/pseuds/kazosa
Summary: It's finally over. The monsters are dead or are so few that Dean has little to do but roam around finding out who of his friends made it through. There was one person in particular that he just couldn't bring himself to check on, you. Going a little bit crazy, he finally makes one last decision.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	The End

Eight months had passed since the end and Dean hadn’t spent more than two nights in one place the whole time. It wasn’t that he had somewhere to be. In fact, the opposite was true. No one was looking for him, no one missed him. No one needed him. For the first time in his life, he was obligated to no one… and he didn’t know what to do with himself. Everywhere he went, someone, some place, some dirty back road to nowhere made him think of all the people he’d lost and he would need to move on. It was too hard. And, as much as it pained him to sell his car, it hurt far more to not see Sam sitting in the passenger seat. Instead, he roamed the roads on a motorcycle that looked like had been thrown together. He just needed it to go everywhere and get there fast. 

“Hey, pal, last call was twenty minutes ago,” the bartender reminded him.

“Right,” he downed the beer, “don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” He stood up from his barstool, taking out his wallet throwing a few bills down on the bar, then grabbed his helmet, ready to leave. 

“You want me to call you an Uber?”

If Dean hadn’t become a functioning alcoholic, he might have thrown up at the thought. He didn’t do that hipster crap.

“Nope.”

“Can anyone come get you?” the bartender asked again. 

Dean kept walking, “nope.” The only thing he’d managed to do in eight months was become a meandering mess who reeked of some kind of booze, as he rode across the country verifying that everyone he ever loved or cared about had died. The end had been a massacre and he had been the only one to make it out alive. 

“ _ You don’t know that _ ,” the annoying voice at the back of his head chimed in.

Dean yanked his helmet on, his beard prickling against the chin guard. He pulled the scarf up around his neck and made sure the ends stayed tucked inside his leather jacket as he got on his motorcycle. There was one person who had been on his mind. One of the last ones he hadn’t yet checked up on, mostly because he couldn’t bring himself to know one way or the other… yet.

2008

_ “This place reeks of school,” he said under his breath.  _

_ Sam rolled his eyes. “Its a college library Dean.” _

_ “Whatever,” he snorted. “You go do your nerd thing. I’m gonna see what the librarian knows.” _

_ “I hope you’re going to change tactics,” Sam warned. _

_ When Dean gave him a questioning look, he continued. “That ‘tutor’ line never works.” _

_ “When you get more numbers than me, then you can judge,” he scoffed. _

_ Dean still caught a hint of his disapproving look before he left him behind to go talk to the librarian. Unlike Sam, he’d scoped out the library the day before. He knew how to do homework, just not the kind that got good grades. He hoped the one he saw the day before would be working again. _

_ As he rounded the corner, an older woman was behind the counter furiously shelving books to the return cart. She wasn’t the one he was hoping to see; he would have remembered seeing this one. She wore clothes from a few decades before, thick glasses on a chain, and though her hair hadn’t fully grayed, her hair was done in what he assumed was a beehive.  _

_ He sidled up to the counter. “Hey, sweetheart.” _

_ The woman let out an exasperated huff and slammed down the barcode scanner she was using to check in books. She folded her arms in front of her and leaned on the counter to look at her most recent annoyance. _

_ “My name is Gloria, not sweetheart. What do you want?” _

_ Dean cleared his throat and wondered why his obvious charms didn’t work. “Um, I’m looking for a tutor….” _

_ “You really think I’m going to believe you’re a student? Honey, this isn’t my first day.” She unfolded her arms and stood back from the counter, her impatient look not changing.  _

_ “Easy Glo, he’s one of mine,” she suddenly appeared; the one who’d caught his eye. _

_ “You need to quit having your boyfriends come here,” Gloria chided. _

_ The woman looked at her co-worker, “Mm quite right.” She turned to Dean. “Honey, how ‘bout you come down here?” _

_ “Have a lot of boyfriends?” he followed her to the end of the counter. Finally, he saw the name on her tag. (Y/N). _

_ “I you don’t strike me as the exclusive kind,” she teased. “How can I help you?” _

_ I could be, he thought. “I need a tutor,” he leaned on the counter towards her.  _

_ She leaned forward and put her hands on his. “Gloria is watching and I’m usually affectionate with boyfriends.” Her nail traced a line up his wrist making his skin tingle. “What are you really doing here?” _

_ This was not all how he planned on having things go. “I, um, I’m looking…” _

_ “If you’re a student here, I’ll eat my shirt,” she stayed perfectly in character with Gloria watching. “You’re here about that stuff with Jenny and Keith, aren’t you?” _

_ “Just looking into what happened. Not buying what the papers and authorities are saying. Looking to get the truth.” _

_ Somehow, she had a pen and was writing something on his hand. He would have looked at his hand, but he couldn’t draw his gaze from her. _

_ “What’s your name, honey?” she looked him in the eye. _

_ “D-Dean,” he stammered. “Dean Winchester.” _

_ “Well, Dean, I’m off at four and we can talk then,” she said, rubbing the top of his hand. “Better get out of here before Glo turns you into Security.” _

  
  
  


Dean sighed heavily as he started the motorcycle. (Y/N) had been a wild card right from the start. He’d been thinking about her a lot lately. She was the only person giving him hope. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, think of her as anything but alive, but what was he supposed to do? Live on blind faith that she was alive and well? He didn’t have faith in anything. Not after the End, except maybe her… of all people, of all hunters, she being alive would mean he wasn’t alone. And if anyone could cheat death, it was her.

Getting settled before he rolled out, he felt the weight of his gun and knife press against his torso. He knew how to get to Purgatory. In the last eight months it had become a more and more appealing option. Why not just go there and do the only thing he’d ever been good at?  _ ‘Cause (Y|N) won’t be there,’ _ he answered his own question.

He could just wait for Billie to come get him, but for what? She was there… at The End… she’d said, “This ain’t in your book, honey” as he sat on the ground, covered in blood and screamed into the night at the sorrow and unfairness of it all. He still didn’t understand how living had been his fate…

2013

_ “Nope,” his heart hammered in his chest as he pulled her into his lap. He took (Y/N)’s hands and held them on her chest. “You’re not going anywhere. We’ll get you fixed up in no time.” In his head, he screamed for Cas to come.  _

_ Sam held pressure on her leg and did the best he could on her abdomen. (Y/N) had been with them in some way for the last five years. She was a natural hunter and her knowledge of the supernatural had bailed them out of tough situations more than once. _

_ “Deuce, c’mon. You gotta stay with me,” he used the nickname he’d thought up for her. _

_ (Y/N) sighed and groaned at the same time. “Ungh, stop calling me Deuce, it sounds like shit.” _

_ Dean looked at Sam, who tipped his head to the side in silent affirmation. _

_ “...wild cards though,” he muttered. _

_ “I don’t want… the last words I hear from you… to include… shit. Clearly… I’m the Ace in the Hole,” she said between labored breaths. _

_ (Y/N) looked up at him and laughed. She went down hill at breakneck speed. Sam couldn’t keep enough pressure on her wounds, even with an extra hand from Dean… _

_ He’d watched her slip away from him once and he didn’t want to do it again. Cas had come, but not in time to heal her before she died.  _

_ “Please, Cas…” _

_ Dean didn’t know if it was he who’d said it, or Sam. Either way, the angel reached out his hands, making (Y/N)’s wounds glow with his healing touch. She’d gasped awake and immediately clung to Dean. ‘ Man, she held on tight ,’ he thought. And so had he. At that moment, he knew he would never let that kind of harm come to her again. _

  
  


Rolling on the throttle, the motorcycle carried Dean away from the bar and down the road…

  
  


2013

_ It had been a few months since it happened. Dean sat in the library. His chin resting on his hand on the table. With his other hand, he rolled the tumbler of whiskey between his thumb and middle finger. The light from the above pendant lighting penetrating the amber liquid in the crystal glass. _

_ (Y/N) was in Sam’s room watching some nerd show, or something, and that left him alone to dwell in his thoughts. Nor did he care for the feeling of jealousy that had been rising in him, so he’d decided to have a drink about it. _

_ “Hey,” (Y/N) said, walking into the room.  _

_ Dean didn’t move from his spot at the table. He still looked at the whiskey in his glass and barely raised his hand in greeting. The whiskey had done its job warming his heart and… slightly… numbing his feelings. _

_ (Y/N) pulled out the chair next to him. He rolled his head to the side, resting on his arm to look at her. He almost hated how much he loved her eyes. And he definitely didn’t hate how she was looking at him. _

_ She put her hand on his arm and gave him a little squeeze. “Why’re you out here pouting?” _

_ Called out again, he said what came to mind first. “I’m not pouting, you’re pouting.”  Dammit . _

_ “Yeah, okay. It’s funny how you still think I can’t read you like a book,” her voice was soft. She slid a hand down to his wrist, her thumb stroking his skin. It always seemed to tingle when she did that. _

_ Grudgingly, and with more effort than he cared for, he managed to peel himself off the table to sit up. He wondered what she thought she could see written all over him. _

_ He watched her as she stood up, forcing him to lean back a little in his chair. He never knew what she would do next and it both excited and scared the shit out of him, and not ever in a bad way. _

_ Her hands, how he loved when she touched him, went to his face and hair. If he hadn’t already had the whiskey, he might feel drunk off her touch alone. She slowly leaned down further. (Y/N)’s lip touched his and he thought maybe he was dreaming. She kissed him like it had been something they did all the time. He fantasized on it plenty… _

_ Before he knew it, she was gone and looking over her shoulder at him from the doorway, whiskey in hand. _

_ “You coming?” _

_ If he’d ever been drunk, he’d sobered in a hurry and followed her. What resulted was not just an amazing night of love making. It had also resulted in a relationship he hadn’t known she’d wanted… just as much as he had. _

The chill of the night air cut through his thin layers. Most of the time, he just ignored it. He’d been through worse. He could withstand anything. He just didn’t know if he could stand living in a world without (Y/N) in it.

The ‘what ifs’ ran through his mind again. If he waited for whatever end was coming to him, there would still be no guarantee he would see her again. There was no way he could go on living in this world if she wasn’t in it…

  
  


2019

_ It was a quiet morning. Sam was somewhere with Eileen and that left him and (Y|N) with the bunker to themselves. These were the mornings that were his favorite. (Y|N) was tucked into his side, her arm draped across him. They didn’t have a case to work. They had nowhere to be. All they needed to do was lie in bed all day.  _

_ “What’re you thinking about?” she asked. _

_ Dean ran his hand over her arm across his chest, “Just about how lucky I am.” _

_ “It’s true,” she kissed his jaw, “you are super lucky.” _

_ Five years. He’d had the love of a good woman for five years. They were a great team. He had everything he ever wanted. Somehow they had managed to balance the hunter life and ‘normal’ life. They worked well together and played well together.  _

_ “What’s the plan for today?” he asked. _

_ “Staying in bed all day sounds good to me,” she answered. “Oh, hold on, I made you something.” _

_ (Y|N) handed him a spiral bound book. Inside were pictures of the two of them, Sam and Eileen, Jody and Donna, Rowena…  _

_ “It’s us. All of us,” she explained, “our story.” _

_ It was mostly the two of them. They were in the bunker, road hotels, in Baby. She never asked him for more than what he could give, but he still found himself wanting to give her more. He wanted to live in a house, have a kid or two. He wanted more. A real life. _

Dean kept the small scrapbook with him, always. He didn’t need to bring his father’s journal anymore, the End made sure of that. The journal came with him out of habit now. Dean brought the scrapbook because he needed it, more than he cared to admit. He needed to see their faces, to remember the good times, and to see her… 

Dean slowed the bike to a stop at a red light. Turning right, he would go to her house. To the left, he would take the road to nowhere. Going straight, he would forge ahead. 

The End was coming and, unlike so many things, they had  _ known _ it was coming. All Dean could see were all the things that were trying to kill them. He just wanted to make sure she was safe...

  
  


_ “I want you to leave.” _

_ “What? Your room?” _

_ “No, the bunker. I don’t want you here anymore.” _

_ “What? Why? What’s wrong?” _

_ “You’re reckless and too unpredictable. You’re either going to get yourself killed or someone else and I can’t have that on my conscience.” _

_ “No, that’s bullshit.” _

_ It didn’t end there. The next day was more of the same, but he’d stood firm on his decision. Break it off clean, get her away and to safety. _

_ “Just promise me you won’t keep hunting.” _

_ “No.” _

_ “Ace.” _

_ “No. You’re being stupid. You know I can help and you know I won’t stop,” she was mad and near tears. “When this is over and you’re done being stupid, come find me. You love me, Dean.” She turned back before she got in her car. “You better not fucking die. I’ll kick your ass.” _

  
  


His heart left that day when she tore down the dirt road that led away from the bunker. Maybe that was why he did the things he did at The End, showing no mercy… nothing but brute force brawling…

Dean turned right and continued on. Was he done being stupid? Probably not. What he did know was that the dumbest thing he ever did was force her out of his life and he needed to know, for sure, one way or another, if his life was worth continuing. 

For the first time, in a very long time, he had hope…

He knew where she used to live, it had been a few years since he’d seen her and… he just didn’t know… was she alive? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Married? Hunting? Normal job? If she was still alive, she’d be there.

It was late, the house was dark, too dark for anyone to be awake. He should give a damn that he was about to knock on the door and disturb the residents, but he didn’t. He waited long enough and needed to know… to see her face… to have hope again. He climbed the stairs, feeling lighter with each step he took. His heart raced as he stood at the wood door. gargoyle door knocker seemed to mock him as he stood there, unable to move.

“Shut up,” he grumbled as he grabbed the gargoyle and made it rap loudly, twice, on the door. Dean was about to try again when the porch light flicked on. His eyes rebelled at the sudden glare from above. He shaded his eyes, but didn’t look away from the gargoyle. The sound of the locks turning shifted his gaze to the door’s opening. Time slowed to a crawl. Dean swore he could hear the antique metal rotate as the person on the other side of the door turned the knob.

It all came down to this. Would she be there? Would she be the one to open the door? Would she be happy to see him? What if…

The door cracked open. His heart jumped in his throat as the porch light fell on the face inside.

“Hi.”


End file.
